


All in Better Time

by bluedawn



Series: Gingerbread Houses [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Childhood Friends, F/M, Romance, Young Love, human!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8698651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedawn/pseuds/bluedawn
Summary: University students John Noble and Rose Tyler have been best friends since they day they were born.  And, just a few weeks ago, they finally crossed the line into far more than just best friends.  Home for the holidays and not quite ready to face their mothers, the two of them attempt to keep their hands to themselves.  Well...they tried.  Sequel to 'All in Good Time'.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This smutty little sequel to 'All in Good Time' has been rattling around in my Google Docs for a long time. I didn't realize how long it's been since the first one of these came out. Someday, I'll do a third installment, too. But here's some adorable, besotted Nine/Rose for you. (I've been reading a lot of that lately, so it's where my brain currently - and happily - resides.)

Rose cuddled closer under John’s arm as their train barreled closer to London, nuzzling his chest in her sleep and drooling a bit. He laughed softly to himself and flashed Jack a grin as the other man pulled out his mobile and snapped a photo. He mouthed ‘blackmail’, at John and then waggled his eyebrows.

Rose and John were headed back home to the Estate for the holiday and Jack was staying with John, as usual. Ianto had gone back to Wales for the break, but Mickey was due to London in a few days, Rory and Amy were already back, and Donna got in tomorrow. John was really looking forward to seeing his old friends together again in once place. He and Rose had big news, after all.

Almost three months ago, Rose and John had _finally_ realized what dolts they’d been for the past few years and become a couple. Or, as Jack said, an ‘official’ couple, because he insisted that John and Rose had been a couple since, oh, Year 2. The last eight weeks had been some of the most glorious of John’s whole life. He felt as though a huge weight had lifted from his shoulders now that he didn’t have to hide his feelings from Rose, now that it was perfectly within his rights as ‘the boyfriend’ to kiss her and touch her and tell her that he loved her anytime he wanted. And he practically always wanted.

Then he frowned, remembering what Rose and he had discussed just before they’d caught the train home. Rory, Amy, and Donna knew already (Rose told Amy everything and Amy told Rory everything) and his sister had somehow known as soon as John had said ‘hello’ the first time he’d called Donna after ‘The Van Damme Incident’ as he and Rose jokingly referred to it. But they had decided not to tell their families, not yet anyway. It would lead to an inevitable tiff between their constantly-snarking-at-one-another mothers and John and Rose were still enjoying the thrill of their new relationship. Neither one of them wanted to spend the entire holiday listening to one mother or the other drone on and on about what a terrible idea they were together or how each of them could do so much better than the other.

Of course, that also meant John’s ‘touch-and-kiss-Rose-whenever-he-wanted’ boyfriend privileges were going to be revoked for the next two weeks. He had no idea how he was going to cope with that. He would do anything for her, anything in the world. And if that included pretending to not be her boyfriend, well, he _might_ be able to do that . She snuffled softly and clutched his jumper a bit tighter and his heart soared. 

Maybe.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Six days later, his resolve was definitely cracking. Casual intimacy had become so innate to them over the past few months, that policing his touches became a full-time duty. At first, they’d tried some surreptitious touching, but after one unfortunate incident at dinner, they’d given that up for a loss. Seeing Rose, talking to Rose, and being with Rose, but not _being_ with Rose was driving him absolutely spare. It reminded him a bit of the hellish ‘she loves me’/’she loves me not’ insanity he’d endured all throughout secondary when they’d both been too afraid to make a move on one another. And it didn’t help that Jack, Donna, Rory, and Amy were all being _merciless_ with the ‘behind-the-mothers’-backs’ teasing. If Jack made one more lewd hand gesture at him...

Finally, on December 23rd, Jackie and Sylvia decided that it was time to go to Tesco and purchase party supplies (and probably enough food to feed an army) and they had drafted Jack, Donna, Howard, and Wilfred into going along to help (well, to carry bags). Rose had begged off the shopping trip, claiming a headache, with a meaningful look at John, who made sure that he was conveniently knee-deep in tangled fairy lights, loudly whinging about his impossible task and how he just had to get it done today, of course. Since they’d all been in the Noble flat when the expedition had been planned, Sylvia had cooed over Rose, insisting that she stay right where she was on the couch. She’d even gathered a warm flannel for Rose’s ‘migraine’ and had ordered John to wait on Rose, hand and foot.

Little did his mother know, John was quite a willing supplicant to Rose’s every need, even without his mother’s mandate.

The lot of them swept out of the flat like a hurricane, with Jack and Donna making kissy-faces at the two of them behind Jackie and Syliva’s backs. Once they were all finally out the door, Rose whipped the flannel off her eyes and shot up, grabbing John’s hand and pulling him from his pile of hopelessly snarled fairy lights.

“What is it, Rose?” John asked, as she dragged him up the hallway toward his old room. Rose pushed him inside and followed, shutting the door behind them with a solid click. “Don’t you have a headache?”

She turned to him and his heart leapt into his throat. He knew that look. He’d spent the last few months trying, at every moment possible, really, to get her to make that look. Of course she didn’t have a headache. His brilliant, brilliant Rose. Oh, why hadn’t he thought of something like this days ago?

Without a word, Rose flew forward and crashed her lips against his, enthusiastically pinning him back against the door with a thump. He returned the frantic kiss, letting his mouth do all the things he’d discovered she liked, all the things he hadn’t been able to do the last few days. Tongues battled, teeth pulled, and lips slid deliciously against one another.

Champion kissers, they were. 

“God, I thought they would never leave,” she said against his neck, panting for breath. 

“I know,” he mumbled back, his chest rising and falling against hers as he gasped as well. “It’s been so hard, keeping my hands to myself.”

“Tell me about it. Six days. We haven’t been alone together in six days,” Rose growled, letting her lips trail across his neck and down toward his collarbone, where her teeth scraped. “Then you wore this bloody red jumper today and all I could think about was the first time we kissed.”

He groaned, at the memory, at the feeling of Rose’s teeth, at the sensation of getting even harder in the confines of his jeans, he didn’t know. “That’s not the only first thing we did that night,” he smirked, his hands slipping beneath the hem of her jumper, thumbs caressing the soft skin of her back.

“Mmm,” was the only response he got from Rose. She replaced her mouth on his and for quite some time, neither of them spoke again. He had discovered a few days ago that if he ground his hips into hers while methodically thrusting his tongue, she practically melted to the floor. He liked that. It wasn’t until his hands moved down to her arse to pull her even closer _(if he could just get her to put her thigh a little more to the left, that would be amazing)_ that anything changed. Instead of falling into him like he expected, she pulled back and he made a noise of complaint. He felt her lips curve into a smile against his mouth as he tried to chase after her. Stepping back even further, she took her hands from around his neck, sliding along his arms until they were hand in hand. He cocked his head to the side, confused at her sudden retreat. He wanted to keep the snogging and the grinding and the friction. Oh, how he wanted to keep the friction. Rose simply gave him an impish smile and then pulled him forward, making him stumble toward her and toward...

Oh.

His bed.

Oh, oh, oh.

His jeans were suddenly very, very uncomfortable.

John let Rose tug him around, too dumbfounded to do much else, so caught up was he in the hazy flurry of fantasies that fought for dominance in his brain which, of course, didn’t have dibs on the blood supply at the moment. How many times had he gotten himself off on this bed? How many times had he worked himself into a frenzy, just imagining her here? He felt her push on his shoulders and he sat on the edge of the bed with a thump, staring up at her standing between his knees, his cock twitching and his pulse ringing in his ears. He noticed that she seemed to be timid all of a sudden, a huge change from the earlier ‘Take-Charge-Rose’ that he loved so much and that cleared his head some. 

Rose’s hands moved from his shoulders to twist in front of her, a nervous tic he recognized. “I, um, thought…” she began and then stopped. “Well, it’s just, I, ah,” Rose stopped again. “I wanted to give you a special present and Ja-”

John moved his hands to take hers, squeezing to remind her that ‘Jack said’ was a forbidden phrase in the bedroom (a rule they’d both heartily agreed upon). “What is it?” he asked, the fog of his arousal dissipating a bit as they spoke. Rose was nervous and Rose was his priority. His jumpy genitals could wait.

She cleared her throat and then looked him in the eye. “What we’ve been doing has been great, I mean, really, really great and I know we said we were going to wait a bit longer before we...you know but..I, ah...”

John’s eyes widened, his heart flaring in panic and his ears flaming red once he realized what she meant. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to...oh, how he really, really wanted to. But he and Rose had agreed to take things slow. They wanted to get to know one another’s bodies before they rushed into having sex. That first night they’d kissed, amazing as it had been, had proved to them both that things were going to move hot and quick with them if they weren’t careful. Going slow had been Jack’s suggestion, surprisingly. John was in this for the long haul and Rose was too, so they’d talked about all of this. After all, they only got one first time together. Over the last few months, they’d been building up a resource of what one another liked and disliked and they’d slowly crept hands up (and down). Shortly before the holiday, they’d finally touched one another intimately (inside clothes, not naked, not yet) and just remembering the experience made John’s hard-on come raging back, full on. But they weren’t ready for _that_ , if she was suggesting what he thought she was suggesting, not yet. 

No, John had big plans for their first time and it wasn’t in his small, messy childhood room, on an uncomfortable single bed barely wide enough for one, knowing that any minute their mothers (and Jack) might come back. 

He opened his mouth in an attempt to frame a not-idiotic objection, but Rose pre-empted him, freeing a hand to lay over his lips, gently. “M’not saying we should have sex right now,” she said and he (most of him, anyway) sighed in relief. “But there are...umm...other things we could do.” Her gaze flickered down to his straining erection and then came back to meet his eyes. And then she very slowly and very deliberately licked her lips.

John eyes were blown wide again, his nostrils flared, and he gasped around her hand. She...she...couldn’t mean, but if she did, she….

Oh.

Rose moved her hand away from his mouth and fidgeted in front of him as he gaped at her. “Are...are you saying you want to…” he trailed off and stared, his gaze trained entirely on her mouth.

“If you want me to,” she answered, her smile beginning again as she watched him watch her.

John made an unintelligible sound in the back of his throat that Rose seemed to process as ‘yes, please’ because her hands moved toward the button on his trousers. John got there first, undoing the clasp and easing down the zip himself, worrying that just her touch and the mere thought of what she seemed intent on doing would make him come immediately. He sighed in relief when the clasps loosened, but he couldn’t help but be a bit embarrassed by how incredibly hard he was. So far, whenever he and Rose had done this sort of thing, it had been in the dark, not in the broad daylight and with either covers or clothes disguising it. The thin cotton of his boxers did nothing to hide his enormous erection and he hoped that she would take it as a compliment. It was all for her, after all. Rose leaned forward and he held his breath as her hands moved to his bony hips, thumbs stroking, making him shudder. She had a thing for his hips, he knew. 

Rose hooked her fingers in the top of his jeans and his pants together and tugged lightly, wordlessly urging him to lift his hips with a crook of her eyebrow. He cooperated and, in one go, she took them both down to his ankles and he was naked(ish) in front of her for the first time. He flushed again, feeling both so embarrassed and so aroused that he barely knew where to look.

Then Rose dropped to her knees in front of him and he wouldn’t have been able to tear his eyes away from her for anything in the universe. He watched, breathless, as she reached out, almost curiously, and stroked a light finger against the side of his straining erection, following a vein from base to tip. The effect on him was instantaneous, a high whimper he’d definitely deny later, escaping from his clenched teeth. His hands fisted in the blanket underneath him and his thighs strained. John couldn’t look away, watching as her finger returned, this time with friends. All five of her hot little fingers wrapped around him, stroking up his length. He groaned loudly as she moved her hand down circle the base of his cock and squeezed tentatively. A bead of pre-cum shimmered on the the head already and he watched it with fascination. That was Rose’s hand. On his cock. Her hand moved up and then back down again and he made the high, breathy whine again. To his slight disappointment, she didn’t sweep her fingers across the head to gather the pre-cum like he would have done. Oh, if she did that...her grip would get slick and oh….he moaned at the thought. Rose suddenly stopped with her hand around the base once more and with enormous effort he tore his eyes from his cock to look into her face. She was frowning slightly, looking nervous again. “Is this ok?” she asked, softly, peering up at him. “Am I doing it ok?”

“Yeah,” he gasped, taking a deep breath that inadvertently thrust his hips upward slightly into her hand. That strangled noise came from him again (had he ever made a noise like that in his whole life before tonight? He didn’t think so) and so she tried to replicate the motion, squeezing him a bit harder than before. He gritted his teeth and focused on breathing deeply as her hand began to move against him closer to the way his usually did, except her grip was lighter and smaller and warmer. “God, Rose. You’re, you’re amazing. You can...you can do more. Harder. Faster, harder.”

She nodded, teeth biting her lip in concentration and making him groan again before he moved his gaze from her mouth back down to her hand. Her grip tightened on his shaft and oh, that was better. On the next pass, she did collect some of the pearly white liquid that had started to leak down his shaft and his breathing became more laboured as she used it to slicken her grip. 

Rose began to move her fist up his length and then back down, still looser and slower than he usually did it, but she grew more confident with each pass. She began to twist and alter the motion slightly, sometimes moving unexpectedly, and oh, this was so much better than his own hand, it was so much more exciting not to know what was going to happen next. His eyes slid shut after a moment and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt her other hand caress his bollocks. He almost came right then, which took him completely by surprise, and his eyes flew open, which just about caused his downfall, again. Rose was staring intently at his rigid, thick cock moving up and down in her hand, precum lubricating her grip and her tongue was at the corner of her mouth as it always was when she was being impish or concentrating. Rose Tyler staring at his cock as she pleasured him. That was truly the stuff of fantasies. And as amazing as what she was already doing was, seeing that tongue, he immediately wanted her mouth on him, he wanted her tongue touching him.

As if reading his mind, Rose moved her hand to the bottom of his shaft and held his length still as she leaned forward. He stopped breathing. The first touch of her warm, wet mouth was absolutely, almost mind-blowingly, incredible and then he was breathing again, but much, much faster. Oh, mouths. Mouths were much, much better than hands, his or even hers. It was hot and wet and tight and, fucking tongues! Oh, god.

Her tongue flicked out, as tentative as her fingers had been, and it moved lightly against the head of his cock. Growing more confident at his moan, she then swirled it around the tip gently, making a full circle before pulling back. She smacked her lips, like she was trying out the taste of him and he cried out. John’s hands fisted in the sheets on either side of his thighs, gripping the duvet tightly so he didn’t accidentally do something terribly impolite, like grab her head. (He’d read about that in a book - which he would deny to his deathbed that he’d read, if Jack ever happened to ask. Though he suspected that Jack had left it lying about their room on purpose.) Just when he’d been about to open his eyes and ask Rose if she was all right, her entire mouth returned, taking him deep, engulfing him so suddenly that his hips shot off the bed, making her gag slightly and pull back again. Words fell from his mouth, apologies, mostly, mixed with some begging, but Rose soothed him to silence by caressing his thighs and then moving her mouth back to him.

As with her hand, it took a few minutes for her to find a rhythm that worked, but John scarcely cared. Even when she wasn’t quite on the rhythm that he wanted it still felt fucking amazing. No wonder all the guys in secondary had talked about blow jobs all the time. Once, when that idiotic prat Adam had salaciously commented that Rose had a nice, large mouth in front of the rest of the rugby team, John had broken the idiot’s nose, even if he hadn’t ever experienced first hand what the idiot had been talking about. Well, he knew now and boy, Adam had been luck that John hadn’t been properly with Rose back then. The moron would’ve come off with a lot worse than a broken nose.

The wet heat of Rose’s mouth was, by far, the most astonishingly fantastic thing he’d ever felt. In fact, it was getting almost too fantastic, he thought, as a familiar pressure came rushing down his spine, settling low and insistent in his bollocks. “Rose,” he grunted hoarsely, interrupting the stream of incoherent mumbling he’d apparently been making. He really hoped he hadn’t said anything too dumb. “Rose, it’s,” he repeated, louder, because just a second ago when he’d said her name, she’d sucked on him, hard, and holy _fuck_ , she’d just done it again. “I’m -”

He forced his eyes open and watched as she plunged down once more, taking him in deeply and at the sight of his cock buried down her throat, the pressure inside him broke ferociously. He thrust upward into her mouth, barely aware of anything that wasn’t the pulsing, white-heat of his amazing release and the sound of his own hoarse, ecstatic voice. It lasted longer than usual, his cock shooting off again and again into the warmth of Rose’s mouth. When he was completely spent, John collapsed backward onto the bed, dimly aware of Rose’s mouth releasing him as he fell. His persistent cock continued a few jerky spasms against his stomach, leaving a messy evidence trail until it finally softened and settled.

He felt as though all of his bones had been removed and replaced with quivering piles of warm, contented jelly. That had to be the most amazing thing EVER. And Rose had to be the most amazing girlfriend EVER. When he finally had enough energy, he sat up, and then became quite dizzy at the rush of blood that went to his head. And then he yelped in surprise when he didn’t find Rose sitting on the floor where she most certainly had been a moment ago. He tugged his trousers and pants up quickly, almost tripping in his haste, so desperate was he to find Rose.

Oh, no, no, no. Had he fucked it up? This was big, it was huge and special and intimate, and he’d screwed it up, somehow. Just as he’d started to call out for her, Rose reappeared right in front of him at the doorway of his bedroom, holding a flannel and dabbing at her chin, which still seemed to be a bit...messy. His jaw dropped and his stupid, insatiable cock gave another twitch.

“Recovered, I see,” she said, grinning at him widely. He tried to form a sentence of some kind, a retort, a blessing, an expression of gratitude, _something_ , but all he could do was grab her close into a tight embrace. The euphoria of his incredible orgasm, the pounding fear he’d just experienced, and his absolute, overwhelming love for her all came crashing down on him and he could scarcely get her close enough to him. In fact, weirdly enough, he almost wanted to cry from the sheer joy of it all. 

“John, are you ok?” Rose asked into his chest, her voice muffled from being pressed into him so firmly.

“I’m fantastic,” he whispered into her hair, pulling back to kiss her. To his surprise, she began to laugh, making him miss her lips.

“What?” he asked, all of his intense emotions unfurling into a slightly perturbed, mostly fake, scowl in the face of her continued, snorting, full-body laughter. It was impossible for him to manage a real scowl less because, less than five minutes ago, his amazing girlfriend had just given him the greatest present of his life. He’d probably never be able to scowl again.

“It’s just…” Rose gasped through her glee. 

“What?” he repeated, crossing his arms over his chest and he was hit, hard, with the memory of their first intimate experience together and the similarities now, a smile quirking the corners of his mouth, despite his posture.

“Well, you’re _‘fantastic’_ ,” she snorted, gaining some control over herself, eyes glittering up at him in a way that he wanted to bottle up and keep forever to stave off any sad moment for the rest of his life. 

He raised an eyebrow and waited for her to drop the other shoe.

“It’s…,” Rose dissolved into giggles a moment. “John, you just shouted that word loud enough for the whole estate to hear. Possibly all of London. M’probably never going to be able to hear you say it again without laughing. ‘Fantastic!’, that’s your word! Ha! Who knew?” she snickered.

His ears flamed and he could feel the heat of the blush as it engulfed his whole body. He did vaguely remember shouting. And it was very, very possible that had been what he’d said. But for now, he needed a way to get Rose to stop giggling at him and start kissing him. And so, he took a step toward her, eyes darkening, giving her his best ‘I’m a very clever and mysterious man’ face. After all, she was one up on him and he was fairly certain he knew how to even the score. It had been, after all, a very informative book. “I’ll show you fantastic, Rose Tyler, you little min-”

Suddenly a key scraped in the lock and both of them looked at one another wildly. John looked down at himself, making sure he was presentable. “I’ll go to the kitchen, and you - back into the loo.” 

Rose looked at him, quizzically. “Why -” she began but he cut her off with a scorching kiss before dancing away toward the flat’s small kitchen. 

“You’ve still got something, just...there,” he replied, pointing to the bottom of her chin and winking naughtily.


End file.
